Darcy and the Single Dad. Stacy Connelly

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СКАЧАТЬ around to the back of the house. She must have come from that direction, and yet he was a little surprised. Somehow he’d expected her to lead him inside.

      Not that he was looking for an invitation. He was just—He didn’t know what he was right then.

      And his confusion only increased when Darcy knelt down before her back porch. The rain had turned the area to mud, and now that he wasn’t so distracted, in the glow coming through the windows he could see reddish-brown mud caked the boots she wore and rimmed the hem of her jeans. She wore a fitted, thigh-length jacket in a rich taupe color, but her choice had little to do with fashion. Whatever was going on, Darcy had been outside in the storm for a while.

      “… I can’t coax her out and she’s not eating,” Darcy was saying. “I didn’t know what to do.”

      Squatting down on his heels, Nick got his first look at the she in question. A medium-sized dog lay huddled beneath the porch. “How long has she been like this?”

      “Since I came home this afternoon.” Darcy crouched down beside him to peer at the dog. The animal had crawled through a hole in the rickety latticework framing the fascia of the porch. A small hole. Small enough that the two of them were nearly cheek to cheek gazing into it.

      Focusing on work instead of giving in to the need to study Darcy’s elegant profile, the arch of her forehead, the straight slope of her nose, the tempting curve of her lips, Nick asked, “Has she been out of the yard at all?” An injury might explain the dog’s instinctual need to hide. “Or is there anything she could have gotten into back here? Pesticides? That kind of thing?”

      “No, nothing. But—You think it’s something serious then?”

      The worry in her voice called to Nick. He turned toward the sound, forgetting how close she was. Close enough for him to be in danger of falling into the endless green of her eyes. Close enough to be a breath away from feeling her pale pink lips against his.…

      “I, um—” Nick cleared his throat against the sudden lump of lust lodged there. “I can’t tell from here.”

      He’d learned his lesson when it came to making promises he couldn’t keep, but he found himself longing to ease the frown between Darcy’s auburn eyebrows.

      It’s going to be okay. Everything will work out for the best. You’ll see.

      Those were the vows he’d made to Carol years ago, and he’d failed miserably on all accounts. Nick had never been a man to say he hadn’t made mistakes, but he damned sure didn’t repeat them.

      “Do you have a flashlight?” He needed to try to assess any injuries before moving the dog.

      It hadn’t been his intention, but somehow his words managed to wring a small smile from Darcy. “Living in this house? I have a flashlight in every room.”

      He’d heard about the troubles she’d had with the house—faulty electricity, leaky plumbing—typical complaints with a house built at the start of the last century. But it wasn’t Darcy’s wires or pipes people in town were talking about after she went out with part-time handyman, full-time ladies’ man Travis Parker.

      No one was surprised when the relationship ended quickly. Travis Parker was known for chasing after a woman only to cut her loose once she was caught. But it was Darcy who kept the rumor mill churning as she seemed willing to give Travis a run for his money as the local heartbreaker, rebounding by going out with two or three other available guys in Clearville.

      Not that it was any of his business. Not any of his business at all.

      “I’ll need a blanket, too,” he said abruptly, turning back to the dog and away from Darcy’s smile.

      He felt the question in her glance as she slowly rose to her feet, but he refused to look her way. He didn’t care who Darcy Dawson dated, he told himself as she quickly hurried up the back porch stairs. Her footsteps were light and quick on the creaky porch floorboards, and he wondered how she did that. How she could make something as simple as walking seem like a graceful, rhythmic dance.

      Reaching out, Nick grabbed the lattice work with both hands and tugged hard enough to break free more of the weathered wood from the rusty nail heads. The masculine show of force did little to lessen the irritation building inside him. The last thing he needed was to wind up on Darcy Dawson’s To Do list. And yeah, okay, the trip wasn’t a total goose chase. Darcy really was worried about the dog.

      But she’d also really had problems with her wiring and plumbing. That was how things started. Where they ended—Well, Nick didn’t let himself think about that. He’d probably tear down the whole porch with his bare hands if he spent too much time imagining Darcy in the arms of those other men.

      He needed to concentrate on the job at hand, and after he’d done what he could to help the dog, he’d turn his attention back to his plan for the future. Finding the right kind of woman.

      A woman who was responsible and down-to-earth. A woman who walked with her feet firmly on the ground. If she was pretty, he’d consider it a bonus, but certainly not a requirement, Nick decided. He’d allowed his hormones to overrule his head before and, except for Maddie, the results had been disastrous. He didn’t need to feel that skip in his heartbeat, that quickening of his pulse, the low throb of desire that hummed beneath the mundane sounds of everyday life.

      He knew what he wanted and—

      “I’ve got it.”

      Darcy’s husky voice broke into his thoughts, and Nick could only stare at her. She stood beneath the porch light, so he could see her more clearly now. Even with her thick hair pulled back into a damp ponytail and her makeup mostly washed away by the rain, she was beautiful. Tall and graceful, she definitely had it. She was—She was everything he did not want in a mother for his child. Everything he didn’t want in a wife.

      “The flashlight and blanket?” she said, lifting the objects in her arms, her voice hesitant when his silence went on too long.

      “Right,” he said abruptly. “That’s—what I need.”

      He reached out for the items, careful not to brush his hands against any part of Darcy. Grateful to escape, even though it meant crawling into a muddy hole, Nick ducked beneath the porch and through the space he’d made larger. He half crawled, half slid across the muddy ground.

      “Do you need—”

      “Just stay back,” Nick answered when Darcy’s voice followed him into the damp, cramped space. Last thing he needed was for her to try to squeeze in behind him. He’d never been particularly claustrophobic, but the idea of being trapped in such close proximity with the woman had sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I need as much room as I can get in here.”

      In the glare from the flashlight, the dog eyed him warily. He could see now that she was some kind of heeler mix with a solid, medium-sized build, alert ears and intelligent gaze. He’d always had a soft spot for working-class dogs, admiring their bravery, their intense watchfulness … their loyalty.

      And after only a quick examination, he was relieved to discover the reason the dog had sought out some privacy and shelter. “Come on, girl. Let’s find you a more comfortable spot.”

      He’d asked for the blanket in case she snapped at him or started to squirm when he moved СКАЧАТЬ